Mind Your Head: Sarawak, Borneo

Cute things: children, Homer Simpson and the pert tushie of the new graduate intern at your office.

Fact: none are as cute as orangutans (and that includes kids, once they pass the age of ten.) Orangutans are so adorable that it's worth a visit to Borneo to see them alone and that's exactly what we did.

Sarawak, in the Malaysian part of Borneo, is home to orangutans, tropical rainforest, rivers, mountains and the spectacular Bako National Park. Our knowledge of orangutans was limited when we arrived here, the only thing we knew about them being that an ape who likes lemon pies is called a Meringue Utan and orangutans wear ape-rons when they cook (sorry! Couldn't help myself!) But we had to see them - now or never - because the deforestation rate in Malaysia is the highest in the world and these cuddly creatures are threatened with extinction for the sake of those pesky palm oil plantations. Sarawak is home to an orangutan rehabilitation centre and the capital hub of Kuching is where we based ourselves.

Sarawak is also home to the Iban: the hard-as-nails warrior tribe famous for enemy head hunting. Although their head hunts have drastically decreased in number in the modern age (note I didn't say they were at zero), there are several native homes which still have old skulls displayed in a cage in the guest rooms. Nice. We were thinking of doing a homestay at a traditional 'longhouse' but weren't overly enamoured with the touristy options offered to us; that is, until a girl at our hotel told us she could take us somewhere very authentic. All we had to do was go with her on a three hour drive until we reached "a place" where she'd leave us and we'd have to trek through dark forest to the home of a very old lady who'd "happily take care" of us. We would recognise her house from the skulls that still hung outside her door. She would show us "jungley things" and as long as we were polite we'd avoid being the recipients of her "incomparable black magic skills." Now, Imran and I might like 'real' experiences but we also quite like being alive and so we had to turn down the generous offer (although I'll be totally honest with you and say I was mighty tempted because I knew that if she didn't chop off our heads it'd probably be an awesome adventure.) But no, Imran wasn't quite ready to meet any headhunters, especially as he doesn't want to go back to work until at least September (boom boom!)

We spent a day at the orangutan rehab centre admiring the gorgeous apes. Super duper cute! They weren't just swinging through the trees but were occasionally walking very close to us - not as great as it sounds because tourists are meant to be silent when the orangutans approach and, as usual, that's just an expectation too high for many of them so the poor apes were quite frightened walking past these noisy, flashing people (flashing in the sense that they went crazy with their cameras, not in the 'exposing oneself' sense. Thankfully.) I'm not usually someone who goes gaga over animals but I really did want to cuddle these big teddies. I obviously had to settle for Imran instead but Benjy Button's hair growth isn't quite on a par.

Bako National Park was stunning. Magnificent, in fact. There were various trails of different lengths for visitors to hike with options to camp for a night at the Park for the long trekkers. We didn't have time to do this unfortunately so had to settle for just a day of jungle adventure; good job, it turned out, as Imran forgot to bring his trainers with him and was forced to climb in his flip-flops. He did fantastically well considering how awkward the trails were but we did have to do a couple less treks than we'd intended. They weren't so much physically exhausting as they were incredibly awkward; massive tree roots stuck out of the ground and were rock hard, making for highly uneven ground. Despite the blazing sun, the jungle was so dense that it felt almost dark. We had to make sure we didn't bang our heads into the many low-hanging tree branches - we didn't want any sense knocked into us. The destinations at the end of our expeditions were spectacular beach bays along which lapped the turquoise waves of the South China sea. Imposing rock formations stuck out of the water like dolphins leaping out of the surf. Beautiful, and well worth sweating pints to see.

Traditional homes in Sarawak are known as 'longhouses' because they're, well, long. Quite simple really, eh? The different tribes and ethnic groups all used to live in a compound with shared communal space and a private room for individual families. As more families joined, more new rooms were attached onto the end of the bamboo house and thus it became longer and longer. A lot of groups still live this way but many members of the younger generations aren't permanent dwellers due to their residency in the main towns and cities where they find contemporary work. Tourists can sleep at a longhouse and it sounded like a lot of fun: we would be taken into the jungle and shown how to forage for food, and then get to help with cooking the goodies back at the longhouse. I would've loved to cook rice in bamboo trunks in the old way. However, not only were we limited with time but we found out that the accommodation would be awful. We visited the longhouse of a Bidayah tribe and saw that although the shared living space is still fairly old-school, the private rooms have moved into the 21st century with televisions, fridges and a cooking hob. The tourist rooms, in comparison, were empty, dirty and without access to water or a decent loo. Why? Because this is what the tourists want. It's an entrepreneur's dream! The tourists want to stay in the worst accommodation possible because this is apparently more 'authentic' (even though the gadget-filled rooms ARE part of how the real natives live today) and pay bucket-loads for the privilege.. and I mean a lot! The organisers must think they're doolally. We thought they were doolally. Surely it wouldn't be a bad thing to have somewhere clean and comfortable to sleep - however basic - if the real experience lay in what happened outside of those doors? So our choice was that we could either pay lots to stay in rooms made purposely rubbish and lose one day of our time in Sarawak, but potentially have a great experience living with the locals, or we could explore Bako on one day and just go and visit a real longhouse on the other. Ultimately, there was just no way we were going to miss out on Bako. We could've dealt with the longhouse quite easily and it would have been fun to be in a Bidayah home - the men play drinking games all night, every night, where they talk for ten minutes and then down a round of shots and repeat the process, and lightweights just fall asleep where they sit - but trekking will always trump a homestay for us.

This meant we also had time to visit the Cultural Village where examples of all the different ethnic groups' houses were built and natives dressed in their traditional outfits. Those headhunting Ibans are also very skilled at having toned bums, it turns out. Did I just say toned bums? Of course, what I really meant was they're highly skilled in the art of blowing darts through a long wooden pole at their prey. Promise that's what I meant. Honestly. Imran had a go at the dart blowing and he was pretty good so I ain't gonna admit to looking at another man's tight ass.

We were both so glad we took the detour to Borneo. It wasn't originally on our list until I randomly decided that we'd be crazy not to stop off in Sarawak. It was interesting, fun and scenic. Additionally, of course, Malaysian food is scrumptious and we got a taster of what's to come when we hit the Western side of the country in mid-May. There'll be some belt-loosening going on there, I can tell you! Back in Borneo, though, we needed a break from the constant moving around and Indonesia's beaches awaited. Time to chill. Onwards!

Zipping Around Laos

It's temple central and there are more monks per square metre than there are peanuts in a yellow pack of M&Ms. So you can understand why we thought our experience in Laos would be on the spiritual side and we'd be asking ourselves deep and personal questions. We certainly did ask questions; I just didn't expect them to be: "Is it better to bare your arse in a place swarming with wasps or someplace quiet where there may be a snake?" and "Is Imran's hair really preventing us from having a good meal?" Yes, these were indeed the main ponderings going on in our minds in Laos: our home for a quick and zippy week.

We arrived in the capital city Vientiane with our hearts still in Cambodia. How could we take our minds off missing our kids and fellow volunteers? If you're as smart as we are the answer is to go to a town that's a real dive and hate it. See? Clever. Yes, there were a couple of beautiful temples and a nice tribute to the Arc de Triomphe and yes, it was more developed than Cambodia. But it was all just a big mess - Cambodia was cleaner in respects due to its sparseness. We were back to the land of cars and honking horns; no more charm of tuk tuks and bicycles. It wasn't until we left Cambodia that we realised tuk tuk drivers took more pride in their vehicles there than anywhere else in south east Asia. We spat on the floor in disgust at the horrible rides the Lao drivers wanted us to sit in! (Not really, obviously.) Didn't they know we'd sat in a Transformers and a Batman tuk tuk in Siem Reap?

Grudgingly, we admitted that it was nice to not be hassled anywhere; to not be asked constantly if we needed a taxi / more embroidered trousers from the market / a 'lady boom boom' massage / marijuana. It was also good to escape the red dust. I can see why people who visit Laos before Cambodia dislike the latter in comparison. The former is just so chilled-out and easy-going, they say. As in Brazil, I'd say that "chilled out" is great when it comes to the local people but when you need some kind of professional service, it's just another term for a certain degree of laziness.

On our first and only night in Vientiane we tried to go for dinner at a restaurant called Makphet. It's a bit like Jamie Oliver's 'Fifteen' in its crusade to help under-privileged youngsters become chefs - a very worthy cause and great food to boot. Not that we were to find out if that were the case. That evening we were turned away by a man giving us the most ridiculous excuses you could ever come across. "What do you mean a raccoon just ran in and stole somebody's muffin and told you not to let the English couple in?!" (Naturally that wasn't really one of the reasons he gave to us but you get the gist.) Later, uncomfortably seated in a back alley with a plate of fried rice served by an 'Oddjob' lookalike (the James Bond baddie; luckily without killer hat), we gleaned through hushed whispers that Imran's afro was scaring the locals: one look at him and they wanted to lock their doors and draw their curtains. We were very proud that his 'fro was coming along so well!

The general standard of food in Vientiane was poor. I was well aware that my usual favourite green papaya salad wouldn't be great in Laos due to the use of shrimp paste instead of fish sauce - which gave it an overly pungent and 'muddy' flavour - but it was worse than expected. We wanted to eat in Makphet, damn it! And so we went back there for lunch the next day holding no grudges (just a baseball bat.) The lovely man was not around much to our grave disappointment and we did indeed enjoy our best meal in the whole of Asia yet. Finally, something to cheer about in Vientiane!

Next, we headed to the ancient city of Luang Prabang. This place was every bit as scenic as people told us it would be. We arrived during a rainstorm and sat outside our hotel room gazing out at the mountains and enjoying the warm and humid drizzle. For the next few days we rode bikes everywhere and soaked up the relaxed vibe. It was indeed no exaggeration that there are beautiful temples and serene monks absolutely everywhere here. It's also home to lovely natural beauty with emerald green forests bordering the town and the Mekong River floating peacefully alongside it. The night market has a great deal of character and is the most peaceful Asian market you could ever hope to wander through.

One morning at dawn, we went to see the Alms-giving procession. Hundreds of monks walk down the streets holding little baskets which are slowly filled with food offered by the local people. It was another one of those things on my 'must see' list; it was also another one of those things that's been ruined by tourists. No longer a peaceful, gentle and spiritual ceremony through silent streets just receiving the first of the morning's sun, it's now a circus show with all the noise that goes with it. The monks supposedly used to walk slowly and smile at everyone; now they look annoyed (well, as much as a monk can) and get back to their temples as quickly as possible. For once it's not the Western tourists who deserve a smack - we all stood on the other side of the road and took only a couple of pictures before quietly standing to watch with respect. It was the Chinese and Korean tourists who were shouting like they were in a nightclub, smoking cigarettes all over the food and actually sitting in the monks' path to try and get the perfect photo. We saw one guy who was running backwards and squatting with his camera as a monk approached and nearly tripped him up. It was downright disrespectful and shameful. Everyday is the same, apparently. How sad. We heard there are calls by the locals to ban Chinese and Korean tourists but how do you enforce something unfair and prejudiced like that on the basis of a generalisation? It just couldn't happen. Besides, China pumps too much money into Laos (in return for free reign over logging in the forests). And so another beautiful sight bites the dust when the travellers of the world all want to see it.

Just so you know, I'm well aware that Imran and I are tourists. I know that I go on about places being ruined or less attractive because there are too many tourists at the scene even though we're just adding to the numbers. And, well.. I just know, that's all. I still feel the same!


An hour and a half outside of Luang Prabang lies the Kuang Si waterfall. We were almost tempted to not bother seeing it - how much better than other waterfalls we'd already seen could it be? Shame on us: we learned very quickly every sight has its own unique beauty and we should never think like that. Kuang Si turned out to be one of the prettiest and most picturesque waterfalls we'd seen in a long time. Sparkling blue waters surrounded by forest, warm enough to swing like Tarzan from a vine and jump into. Smaller parts of it were like natural infinity pools. There was also a bear rescue centre nearby and the animals were crazy cute (from a safe distance, naturally!)

And so, onto the main event: the Gibbon Experience. This was the biggest pull factor for us in Laos. It was a three day trek through the rainforests of Bokeo National Reserve where we could hopefully spot black gibbons (a rare type of ape.) Now, although it would be cool to see a gibbon, it was highly unlikely because they stay far away from noise and people. The real reason we wanted to do this was because we'd get to zip line through the forest canopy. Zip lining is just one of the most fun things ever invented and we couldn't wait to do it for a sustained period of time. And, unlike a lot of the tourist options in Laos incorrectly promoting themselves as 'ecofriendly,' the Gibbon Experience was specifically created to stop illegal poachers by giving them better-paid jobs as zipline guides. First things first, however, as the Gibbon Experience started in the small town of Huay Xai and we needed to somehow get there from Luang Prabang. The options available were: 1) a two-day slow boat; 2) a twelve hour local bus journey; 3) a seven hour manic speedboat ride down the Mekong with a catalogue of casualties and disasters to its name. Hmmm.. choices, choices. What's worse: discomfort or death? It's a close call but perhaps discomfort takes it so we opted for the speedboat.


Guys, ever ordered a pair of boxers thinking there's not a lot of room for discrepancy in its description and expected to have a pair of boxers delivered to you, only to find you've been sent a man thong? That's what we got. The Lao version of 'speedboat' was in fact a tiny, wooden canoe with a powerful motor attached to one end, with seating space so limited that even a dwarf would complain about the leg room. Seven of us, plus a driver, squashed ourselves into this floating piece of wood with our knees hunched up to our chins and our backs banging against the separation panels for too many hours. The scenery and views were spectacular - a mix of Halong Bay and the Amazon River - but we arrived in Huay Xai with sore knees, bruised backs and aching shoulders. We all had to help crack each other back into an upright position. Bed was very welcome that night, especially as Huay Xai is not exactly a town you would want to visit for any other reason! But hey, we were alive.

The next morning we were introduced to the other six people we'd spend the next few days with; three of them were on the canoe with us. The trek on the first day wasn't overly demanding but those of us with stiff 'speedboat' knees found it pretty tiring (how old do I sound?!) The zip lining, however, was incredible. We flung ourselves off flimsy platforms and zipped through thousands of trees. The views were amazing. Nothing but green as far as the eye can see; clear skies above and rocks and rivers below; the sounds of jungle birds and cricket song for company. And where were we sleeping that night? In a treehouse, of course! I expected it to be a treehouse that was easily accessible by the ground treks but it wasn't at all: it was literally in a solitary tree miles above the ground and only accessible by the zip line. If we looked outside we could see nothing but a big drop all around us - thank goodness none of us were afraid of heights! It was seriously cool but at the same time authentically 'jungle', meaning we shared the space with ants, spiders, cockroaches, moths, mozzies and a massive swarm of wasps. There was nowhere to run so we just had to hope for the best when sleeping. Most of the bugs congregated in the bathroom (they must've organised a party on Facebook) but the wasps found the loo most appealing. Not sure why, as the toilet - actually a hole in the floor with the contents falling out onto the jungle below - was fine for the guys who used the wasps as target practice. In comparison, the dilemma for us girls was to either bare our bums over thirty wasps and pray we wouldn't get stung or zip line down into the forest and squat in a bush where snakes reside. I'm usually ok with wasps but this was a bit unnerving; other girls opted to give their pelvic floor muscles the mother of all workouts and simply not go instead! Bladder infection, anyone?

Imran and I were nice enough to take the 'penthouse' that nobody else wanted: the tiny upstairs room with more bugs for company. During the night, though, there was an almighty thunderstorm and we got absolutely drenched. We had to move our wet bedding downstairs in the middle of the dark, sodden night and try to find room to sleep; perhaps next time we'll think twice about being nice!


The following day's trek was a lot of fun: difficult enough to give us some hardcore exercise but not so challenging that all the fun was taken out of it. The ground was a bit slippery due to the previous night's rain, which also meant there were a lot of leeches about, but they seemed to favour sucking the blood out of our Belgian companions and left us alone. A couple of sneaky ones tried to slither through our shoes but we caught them! A snake sighting stopped us all dead in our tracks but nobody was peeing at the time so all behinds remained safe. The zip lining was also awesome as we went on the longest lines in the forest before arriving at Nam Tok Tat waterfall: a total anticlimax if ever we've seen one! It was pretty rubbish - more of a puddle than a waterfall - but none of us cared as the fun lay in getting there rather than the destination. We've found that to be the case a lot on our travels: only Patagonia delivers beyond all expectation when you arrive at the journey's end.

Our second treehouse was better than the first as there were only fifteen wasps hovering over the loo instead of thirty (result!) and less creepy crawlies overall. In addition, there was only one level meaning nobody had to sleep anywhere they didn't want to. Once we arrived in the treehouse, the guides left us alone to do whichever extra lines we wanted and we had an amazing afternoon zipping around like monkeys. But here's a question: why on earth did none of us think to yell like Tarzan even once?! Lost opportunity. The Belgian couple didn't speak a lot of English and so, to make them feel at home, we were busy yelling "Alleeeez!" every time someone jumped off the platform instead.

After a trek back to the starting point the next day, we sat in the back of a truck and were driven to Huay Xai. There we were, casually chatting and enjoying the scenery when we spotted a group of kids further down the road. We started waving and shouting "Hello!" when suddenly a mass of water came flying towards us. SPLASH! We were soaked! The little buggers had thrown buckets of water over us and were laughing hysterically as we drove away, all of us surprised and confused. Five minutes later we passed another group of kids and the same thing happened. That's when we realised that the Thai festival of Songkran was taking place soon. It's a water festival and entire towns just have a massive water fight for days. Right; this was war! The next kids we passed got a taste of their own medicine and believe me, some of them could dish it out but really not take it. Who knew how much pleasure there was in pelting children with water, especially when they hate it? Of course, our limited supply of water bottles ran out pretty quickly and the next kids we encountered were hardcore veterans - they had ammunition in the form of a hosepipe. On the bright side, they gave us a free shower when we hadn't had one for three days!


It was a fun and lovely way to finish our short time in Laos. Again, it's the most basic of pleasures that bring the greatest joy: it's surely an innate human pleasure to play with water. Other travellers we've met say the Gibbon Experience is the best thing they've done on their entire travels; I wouldn't necessarily go that far but then perhaps those other travellers haven't visited Patagonia and the Amazon yet. Still, it was pretty fantastic and we met some great people.

It's hard to sum up Laos for you: it was both pretty and dirty, friendly and miserable, relaxed and annoyingly too relaxed. We were only there for a week and this was perhaps our mistake; the slogan of Laos is "Please Don't Rush," after all. It was certainly the best time to visit this country; the tourist trade is picking up enough to see a lot of improvements for travellers, but give it just a handful of years and it'll probably have lost some of its authentic and traditional charm as it moves into the modern age. Saying that, we didn't really want to be there for longer than a week. It was.. fine. And that's good enough for us.

Cambodia: Good Luck for You; Good Dreams for Me

When you were born, what happened? Were you loved and nurtured or were you snatched from your terrified mother's arms and swung violently against a tree, leaving your blood and bashed brains splattered across the bark? During your school years, did you have dreams of becoming a doctor/lawyer/teacher knowing that life was good for educated professionals or were you lined up in a field and murdered with a pickaxe simply because you had such an education? In 2012, do we enjoy the benefits of modern technology and live a life of great abundance or do we live much like people did a thousand years ago because the world doesn't give a shit about us? I know what my answers are. And I also know that they're not the same as most Cambodians'. Whats the difference between them and us? Just one thing and one alone: we got lucky in our place of birth.

Cambodian history is so depressing that I'd challenge anyone to not be moved to tears by it. The current state of the country today as a result of that history is so disheartening that it's difficult to see even a tiny ray of hope for the future. The Cambodian people themselves certainly can't. They say there some countries, cultures and people who will tug at your heart strings. Cambodians didn't just do this: they reached right to our hearts and opened them up, climbed inside, made themselves comfortable and locked the door behind them. For now that they're in there, it'll be a job to ever get them out. Our time in this incredible country? - it was incomparable, it was an emotional roller coaster and it was the greatest (and saddest) experience we've ever had.

Cambodia has been exploited for centuries. It's been at war with its neighbours, Thailand and Vietnam, more times than anyone bothers to count, usually because these two more powerful nations want to help themselves to land and destroy the stunning architecture. I never realised how many places in these two countries are actually occupied Cambodian lands. On top of this, the USA dropped millions of tonnes of bombs and landmines on Cambodia during the Vietnam War in order to flush out the Communists, many of which are still 'live' today. However, if it were just other countries that abused Cambodia, it might not be in as bad a state as it is. What really destroyed this country was its own people.

The Khmer Rouge took over as leaders of Cambodia in 1975. They were, to put it simply, freaks. These Communist leaders - the head honcho being a prat named Pol Pot - wanted to install a new social order where every person worked in the rice fields. The entire population was forced into farming labour camps. Schools, hospitals, industries and banks were closed; currency was burned so nobody had claim to anything. They believed the quickest way to achieve this goal of agricultural Communism was genocide. Over the next four years, it is estimated that nearly a third of the entire population was wiped out. 95% of educated people were murdered along with their families (except the educated Khmer Rouge members, of course.) Even those who wore glasses were executed because the Khmer Rouge believed this was a symbol of learning. Can you imagine all of this happening in your country? Suspected dissidents were tortured in the infamous S21 prison - when we visited here we saw pictures of people with half of their faces torn off. Millions of human beings were massacred at the place now known as 'The Killing Fields' where piles of bones and skulls can still be seen. Those who weren't butchered generally died from disease and starvation as a result of insufficient agricultural knowledge and from working like slaves. This isn't history: this was all happening in our lifetime.

In 1979, the Khmer Rouge started feuding with the Vietnamese; not just in a bid to get back land but out of pure and simple hatred for them. It was another sign of Khmer Rouge stupidity because let's face it, if there's one thing the Vietnamese know how to do it's fight a war. The conflict that ensued meant even more landmines were sown across Cambodia but, as expected, the Vietnamese sent the Khmer Rouge scarpering. In one sense, Vietnam was therefore the 'liberator' of the Cambodian people. However, other motives (most notably more land annexation and resource exploitation) came to the fore when they ruled Cambodia for ten years and more people were dying in what was intrinsically an invasion by these simultaneous saviours. Sure, this new regime was the lesser of the two evils but as the Cambodian saying goes: "..to go in the water there is the alligator (Vietnam) and to go on the land there is the tiger (Khmer Rouge.)" Worse still for the local people, the rest of the world continued to acknowledge the Khmer Rouge as the real leaders of Cambodia and they kept their seats in the UN even though they were still waging a guerilla war. This was primarily because the US, after their loss in the Vietnam War, refused to do anything to help the country while their nemesis ruled; Washington didn't want "those (Vietnamese) puppets" who were allied with Moscow to have any more power. What about the Cambodian people, the victims of the brutal genocide? The big powers didn't give a monkeys about them because the Khmer Rouge was now allied with China and China was America's new buddy. The States banned all aid agencies from entering Cambodia to help the sufferers. Sadly, the UN allowed Cambodia to be represented before the world by psycho killers. Western nations, including our own led by Margaret Thatcher, even voted repeatedly to keep the Khmer Rouge seats. Only Sweden refused after it listened to the outcries of its people.

Finally, in 1990, after the Vietnamese became frustrated enough to leave, the US reversed its policy of political and tacit military support of the Khmer Rouge and the world chose to acknowledge the savage, cruel and inhumane murder of millions of people. The UN came in and started trying to improve the country. They pumped in money but a lot of it filled the pockets of fiercely corrupt government officials. Nevertheless, in 1993, democratic elections were held and 90% of the electorate dared to have a voice. A new government came in and Cambodia has since had some semblance of stability and peace.

Peace? Is it really 'peace'? After the UN left, the world just seemed to forget about Cambodia as other events around the world took people's interest. Corruption has been a mainstay of the government since the mid-1990s, meaning the people have barely improved their lives due to disappearing foreign aid. Tourism grows steadily as a result of the country's stability but for all those beautiful, luxury hotels being built each year, practically none of that income filters down to making life better for the average Cambodian. Just walk ten minutes away from the tourist hotspots and you'll see people who live in total poverty.

Some homes in rural areas are now 'developed enough' to have metal roofs. 90% of Cambodia's roads remain unpaved. Rice-growing families earn just a few hundred dollars in a year - and that's only during a good year.

There are up to six million estimated landmines remaining in Cambodia which maim and kill people on a regular basis. A third of them are children. The number of amputees in Cambodia is one of the highest of any nation. The rates for women dying in childbirth and for children dying before the age of five are one of the worst on the planet. It is commonplace for children to be stolen - even in hospitals - from new mothers and sold to adoption agencies catering to the unknowing Western market. What if you were that parent? Child trafficking, paedophilia and exploited street kids: just a few of the things that define Cambodia today.

Survivors of the genocide are now in their 40s and it's estimated that nearly 50% suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder. Even sadder, this is being passed down and the succeeding generations are showing the same type of symptoms. This PTSD translates into sky-high rates of drunkenness and domestic abuse. Children of Khmer Rouge survivors have grown up with violent parents and by 2010, after the new generation had arrived, officials estimated that approximately one-third of the nation's men frequently beat their wives and children. That's amongst the highest rate in the world. That was only two years ago.

Pol Pot died just shy of his 73rd birthday. He lived to this ripe old age without ever being brought to trial. Many of his victims didn't even live to see their first birthdays. This is the man who came up with the KM slogan: 'To keep you is no benefit; to kill you is no loss.' Surviving Khmer Rouge leaders live in protected mansions in Phnom Penh. Many Cambodians live in a one-room house with families of up to twelve people. Some Khmer Rouge governors were pardoned for their crimes; others have in recent years been brought to trial but given useless sentences not even worthy of mention. Is it any wonder the people have no self-worth? Now they simply let the government do whatever it wants to them and they remain victims.

A culture riven with traumatic mental illnesses offers a bleak view of the future. Cambodians don't value themselves enough to fight or expect better. They believe their country is on the edge of a cliff and just one more bit of abuse will send it plummeting to its death. Are they wrong? There's currently a lot of political posturing from both Thailand and Vietnam, showing signs of another potential attack. I don't know how much more these people can take. They dared to have hope one time when the democratic elections were held but once again they were betrayed by their own people. Time and time again their own government chooses to damage the country further rather than improve it by lining its own pocket and deserting the people. It's as though Cambodia is just existing; simply waiting for the end. It's heartbreaking to see.

We, in the Western world, feel hard done by if we can't afford to buy an even more expensive car or we see therapists because our parents didn't throw us enough birthday parties. Cambodian kids would kill just to have parents to bless them whenever they sneeze. We complain because we don't think we have 'enough.' But isn't it enough that we're given the right to choose whether we live or die? To choose our own jobs and paths in life? Or to see our children grow up? There's only one thing every human being is 'owed' in life and that's the opportunity to live it, and it's just so wrong that in 2012 Cambodians barely have this. As one local told me sadly: "I can never escape this because my generation will never be able to afford it. Neither will the next generation.. and probably not the one after that."

And so, with all this knowledge weighing heavily on our minds, we went to Siem Reap in Cambodia, the home of the NGO with which we had elected to do two weeks' voluntary work. We expected to be greeted with misery and suffering; to be honest, it was precisely because of this that we chose Cambodia in the first place. No other place seemed to need as much help. Wounds so deep take a long time to heal. We signed up with Globalteer, the head organisation of various NGOs around the world (thank you, Farah, for the benefit of your experience.) We had signed up to build water filters in local villages but upon arrival found there had been a bit of a muddle-up with our application and we were instead due to teach at a school called Grace House. Everything happens for a reason, right? I guess it was where we were meant to be in order to learn as much as we did that fortnight. What better way for Cambodia to really touch us than through its kids?

I said we expected hardship and gloom. Do you know what we got? We got resilience, joy and kindness; we got warmth, talent, energy and love. We found Cambodian people to be the most amazing we've ever encountered in the world. They may not have much hope for their own futures but they don't have chips on their shoulders: they showered us with happiness and positivity. They humbled us to our very cores. We were metaphorically down on our knees in respect and admiration for the spirit and incredible nature of these people. And the kids? My God, the kids were just unbelievable. Every traveller we've met who's been to Cambodia says: "The people are great and the kids are really special, aren't they?" 'Special' just doesn't do them justice. They're something else. On a superficial level they may well be the cutest kids anyone's ever seen but it's their abundant inner sparkle that is most beautiful.

Every morning we'd leave our Globalteer digs and ride our bicycles through dusty villages where women cleaned outside their homes and men threw nets into local rivers hoping to catch some fish. The sun beamed down on us, birds cheeped, and chants from nearby Buddhist temples echoed in our ears as we rode past, tooting our little bicycle horns. We'd turn into Grace House and be greeted by swathes of children yelling "Hello, teacher!" with huge smiles. It wasn't just our school kids: in two weeks there wasn't one single incident where we passed a kid on a street who didn't smile, wave, shout hello and run alongside us happily bellowing out all the English phrases he or she knew.

Imran and I were in different classes. He was teaching a slightly older group and I was given the task of teaching the school's more "unruly and difficult" younger group. We both tried hard to keep an emotional distance from them but it was a futile attempt; it just wasn't possible for us not to fall in love with these fantastic children.

Imran was a brilliant teacher! There was just something about him that his kids felt connected to and from the very first day he had them hanging around his neck, showering him with love and joy. He worked with another volunteer named Sally, from Liverpool, who was not only a great teacher herself but just a fantastic person to be around. They were teaching their class about muscles and came up with creative ways to combine learning, exercise and mathematics (of course!) Every day I could hear Imran's class screaming and shrieking with laughter as they were engaged in strength competitions. It took no time at all for his students to start writing him notes telling him how much they loved him. I've never seen him so moved.

I was working with another volunteer called Lynn and together we had our class making lots of mess and noise during our topic of Jungle Animals. I took several days to just observe the kids and get to know each one individually where possible, and I felt that this unruly reputation was unjustified. But then, that's just me - I like hyper kids! I thought it was good for them to occasionally have an escape, to enjoy their time learning at Grace House because I didn't know what they were going home to. It was so painful at times to look at them and think they were potentially going home to violence. Who knew how many of those girls would end up in the sex trade? Who knew what would come of the exceptionally bright ones - more intelligent than I ever thought possible for kids of their age - in this land of no opportunity? There was no point reading them stories that began: "I got out of bed.." because none of them had a bed. There was no point asking them what they wanted to be when they grew up because most of them had no ambition; the rest sadly said "tour guide." We never told any kids off for being late to class or tired during lessons because a lot of them worked manual jobs made for adults for hours beforehand.

On a happier note, Imran's class had taken to calling him Teacher Aladdin and that, by default, made me Teacher Jasmine! I think it was because of Imran's curly hair; it certainly wasn't because of any toned abs on my part. The other volunteers found this absolutely hysterical and that's how we became known. So that's our next fancy-dress costumes sorted!

Our last day at Grace House was very emotional - for us, anyway; the kids are used to seeing people come and go. There were some to whom we'd become especially close and they begged us to stay. The girls gave us goodbye letters and pictures; a group of young boys in Imran's class sat on a bench with huge frowns and their heads in their hands. "We are very sad!" they kept wailing theatrically. Imran went over and sat with them and I have no idea what he said but they managed to smile. Perhaps he promised he'd come back next time on his magic carpet. Still, they walked away with heavy sighs whilst dragging their feet. All males the world over are drama queens!

In my classroom I was just doing whatever I could to not cry like a muppet. Somehow I managed but I'll never know how, especially when I got this parting gift from the youngest girl in my class. She walked over to where I was sitting with a beautiful smile on her gorgeous face, lifted up her filthy hands and held my face, then kissed me and said: "See you next year, teacher... please?"

As you can imagine, we didn't do a lot of touristy stuff in Siem Reap. We spent every evening in town with other volunteers but we saw the place in a very different light to other people. It pissed us right off when tourists were taking pictures of the street kids as though they were a circus act. Buying from them was even worse as it only exacerbated the begging culture and reliance on tourists and, even worse, the money was going to the adults exploiting them. There's no excuse to not make an effort to be clued-up about such things before you visit a country in this day and age. Going by the reputation, we expected to be hassled by street kids all the time but we weren't harassed even once. I don't know whether our experience of Siem Reap was very different to other visitors because we were effectively living there but I was glad for it regardless.

We took one weekend out to see the sights and go off the beaten track a little. The Landmine Museum is run by an ex-soldier named Aki-Ra who's doing whatever he can to make Cambodia landmine-free. He's effectively 'adopted' a load of kids who became orphaned through landmine explosions or who were rejected by their communities or dumped on the streets after losing limbs to such bombs. There were over 2.7 million tonnes of bombs dropped on Cambodia by the US alone - you'll get some perspective of this when I say that 'only' around 2 million tonnes were dropped during the whole of World War II. To clear all the unexploded ones and demine the country will take another ten to twenty years if the current level of funding is maintained ($30 million per year.) Bill Clinton even said it himself: Cambodia may well be the most heavily bombed country in history.

We also visited the Angkor temples at sunrise. Angkor Wat is the most well-known and, although impressive, is simply a grand and majestic place the King built for himself. The temples with far more character - and our favourite - were Bayon and Ta Prohm . The latter is the 'Tomb Raider' temple and though it may be fun to think about Angelina Jolie jumping and jiving around here, it also houses rubble from the remains of a war with the Thais. The name Siem Reap translates literally as 'Siam (Thailand) defeated.' How's that for a showcase of pride?

You might have noticed that Imran and I like to throw ourselves in at the deep end when it comes to trying new things. Cambodia was no exception. We've never ridden motorbikes before but - spurred on by our adventurous friend, JD - decided the best way to learn was to do a 12 hour ride around the Cambodian jungles and mountains and then come back at night through Siem Reap town amongst all the crazy traffic. We were driving on ground that would be tough to even walk on as we negotiated our way deep into forests. The destination was a 'hidden elephant temple' which had only been discovered two years previously. On one hand, it was really cool to think we were going where only a tiny handful of people had been before. No doubt in a few years, when the guarantee of cleared landmines there is 100% and the route has been paved, it'll be a big tourist attraction. However, on the other hand, the ride was so tough that the bumps, bruises, scars and scratches on my legs are still hurting two weeks later! Still, going by the amount of times I fell off the motorbike and it landed on top of me, I'm grateful my injuries are so minor!

We decided to be blessed by a Buddhist monk. I say 'we' - despite Imran's objections - as I fully intended to partake in this ceremony but, on the day, I had a cold and was informed I'd have buckets of cold water poured over my head for ten minutes. So poor old Imran had to take one for the team! We'd gone with several other volunteers and it was meant to be a very spiritual experience; if you know Imran you'll know that it was a bit less spiritual and a bit more entertaining! Everybody sat with their hands clasped together in prayer and the monk began reciting whilst filling the tub with water... then SPLASH! Over and over again. Whilst the other people retreated into their personal meditative spaces with great seriousness, Imran was busy both laughing and shaking his head in annoyance, staring at me with an 'I can't believe you made me do this!' look. The more he reacted, the more the monk singled him out for wet attention. Soaked right through by the end of it, he had to take his dripping ass back to our digs to change in the middle of the school day. Not sure he's forgiven me yet!

On our final night a big group of us went out to sing our hearts out in a karaoke bar. There was a big turn-out of other volunteers and a few Cambodian staff from Grace House. Considering we'd only been there for a fortnight we were very touched by the fuss and effort everyone made over our departure. Perhaps they were just happy to see the back of us! It was a great night and we were saddened to say bye to some really admirable people and new friends. But let me just tell you the story of how we found a karaoke bar...

Imran always seems to lead me to places with prostitutes, doesn't he? We cycled home from school one afternoon and stopped by a karaoke lounge we'd heard of. Something about it just screamed 'DODGY!' to me so I refused to go any further than the front gate but Imran insisted it was fine and headed indoors. Little did I know what was going on inside! Nobody spoke any English so Imran had to mime a karaoke sing-along. They got that and led him into a room. As he was flicking through the song list, the lights turned off, music began playing and he was brought a microphone. "Um.. I don't actually want to sing right this minute!" he tried to explain but they had no idea what he was saying. 'I'll just find out how much it is and then get out of here,' he thought. So he rubbed his thumb and first two fingers together and said: "How much?" The very next second, five women in very skimpy tops and hot pants all walked in and the music was turned up. All I saw from outside was Imran legging it out of the building shaking his head and hands frantically, yelling "Hookers!" at me. We all laughed a lot at my poor husband's expense! Luckily, we managed to find another karaoke bar in town.

There are many nations in the world that have sad legacies as a result of their dark histories. I know there are countries suffering right now. But how can it be that large parts of Cambodia only had schools for the first time in the 1990s? While we were busy celebrating the new millennium with all the modern developments at our disposal, Cambodians were still wondering what was coming next. I know it's not the last time we'll visit this country and its magnificent people but we need to always make sure that the fine balance of volunteering helpfully and further promoting the reliance culture is not tipped the wrong way.

Thank you, Cambodia. More specifically, thank you to the extraordinary children who stole our hearts in two short weeks. Through you we learned what life's real priorities are and to find happiness in the smallest of ways. You humbled us more than we ever believed possible. It's easy to say we appreciate all that we have in life but never before have we been forced to so fully confront our abundance and thank God with a desperate relief that we were born into a different life. It was one thing to always say and believe that we were fortunate but to actually feel it was a whole different story. Life is a lottery and we have opportunities you won't ever have simply because we got lucky in that lottery. Thank you for allowing us to further cultivate that most important of attributes in life: love.

When the bell rang to signify the end of class, the kids would line up on the steps and say the same thing everyday. It sums up our feelings about our Cambodian experience perfectly: "Goodbye. Good luck for you; good dreams for me."


* If you wish to make a donation to help the Cambodian people, we recommend the following organisations. We've researched them thoroughly to ensure they support sustainable projects so that the people are helped to build their own lives rather than live on handouts and that your money is correctly handled. Grace House was amazing and a great NGO to which to donate but it lacks for nothing; we feel that improving the villages and lives for women is more important. And, of course, it's essential the world pitches in to help clear those landmines. *

www.landmine-relief-fund.com (the payment agency for www.cambodialandminemuseum.org)

www.thetrailblazerfoundation.org

http://abcsandrice.wwebs.com

www.wrccambodia.org
Please watch the short video on this website.